


Heat Stroke

by splatteredwingsofink



Category: Par 6, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splatteredwingsofink/pseuds/splatteredwingsofink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam get called to a job in Valhalla, Texas where they are to investigate a.... haunted golf course?<br/>Par 6/Supernatural crossover</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A major work in progress.

“A what?” The impala's steering wheel jerks beneath Dean's hands, on the other end of the phone Bobby replies and Dean can't help but crack a smile. “A haunted golf course, in Texas.” He states but Bobby doesn't back down, merely confirms the location. 

“Alright Bobby, we got it covered.”

Dean scoffs after he hangs up, glancing over at Sam. 

“It's not the weirdest job by far,” is all Sam says and Dean has to agree with that.

The drive isn't particularly pleasant, too many stops at roadside diners, pee breaks the works. They don't know what their driving into, a haunted golf course sounds like a bunch of bullshit but Bobby had been annoyingly persistent on this one. 

 

Valhalla, Texas all dust and sand, sunlight and the need for water is almost instantaneous. They check in at some dingy motel off the highway, an ugly site that's called 'The Sleeping Cactus', it's ridiculous but it will no doubt be better than sleeping in the impala while they figure this out. 

Sam is already on his laptop, fighting crap wifi connections.

“There's nothing,” Sam informs, “I mean there is one thing but it's your classic golf course on ancestral burial grounds. There's been a few of those in Canada and some on buffalo migration paths but nothing reported any where near here.”

“So we got nothing.”

“Yeah.”

“Figures,” Dean replies, cracking a beer brought in from the impala. “These things can never be simple can they,” he mumbles and takes a drink.

Sam shrugs as he closes his laptop. “I guess not.”

Dean sets his beer down and rubs his eyes. 

“Well, I know one thing for sure,” he says.

“And what's that?”

“I need a nap,” comes his reply and he falls unceremoniously onto the bed. It's not exactly comfortable but aside from a few springs jutting into his back Dean is asleep almost instantly.

Sam opens his laptop again and decides he'll give Dean two hours.

 

They find the course easy enough, there's so much hype about, the haunted golf course that is attracting international attention. Right off the highway it sits, a hideous mess of dirt and one section of green grass at the end. Dean laughs because, although golf has never been his sport, the holes are tires half buried and there's a huge cement wall on the fairway that he is positive shouldn't be there. The only plant life other than the grass at the end is a lonely cactus standing off to the left of the course. 

“Wow, this place is...” Sam says trailing off.

“A dump.” Dean finishes dully. They drove all the way out here for this piece of shit? It hardly seems worth it.

“Maybe we should find the owners?” Sam suggests, glancing pointedly at the turquoise and white trailer near the mouth of the course. 

“Yeah, might as well.”

They walk to the trailer and despite it's short distance they are sweating in the heat, the sun bearing mercilessly down on them.

Sam knocks on the door twice. A lady answers, a smile on her face when she sees them.

“Well hello,” she says her accent unmistakable. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, uh we are here regarding the golf course,” Sam says motioning towards it, “we are with a paranormal magazine and were hoping to write an article on your golf course.”

“Para- oh! I'm sure Mack and Al would be delighted to talk with you two, I'm Peacan by the way.” 

“Yes that would be great, uh I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean,” when she gives them an odd look he quickly adds, “it's sort of the family business, the magazine that is.”

“Oh how wonderful,” she says, “would you like to come in? One of the two should be back soon, it's nearly lunch time.”

“Why not,” Dean replies and somehow they manage to cram into the tiny trailer. 

 

They don't have to wait long before somebody arrives. When he sees them he laughs. 

“Peacan you she devil,” the newcomer exclaims and she hits him with a dish towel. 

“You shut your mouth Al, you know it ain't like that.”

He smirks, “I know I know, you and Dower are connected by the hip or should I say something els- ow!”

“Serves you right Al, now this is Sam and Dean, they are with a para.. I'm sorry what was it?”

“A paranormal magazine,” Dean replies.

“Like them ghosts and stuff right? I love that stuff.” Al says adjusting the cap he's wearing. Dean decides he's well enough, perhaps a little strange at first glance, hair slicked against his forehead, a little rough with some scruff lining his jaw, perhaps a tad thicker accent wrapping around each word and rolling off his tongue.

“Yeah, have you noticed anything strange?” Sam asks.

Al nods, “All the time ever since the old man died and then Walt.”

Dean glances at Sam before speaking. “Okay, what sort of stuff happens around here?”

“Sometimes the golf balls fly around.” Al replies seriously and there's a sudden silence in the room, Dean can feel himself loosing control. He tries not to laugh.

“Anything else,” he clears his throat.

“Oh yeah, the cactus outside,” Al says, his voice suddenly lowering, “if you hit it the spirits take your soul.”

It's Sam who breaks first, snorting as he tries to hold it together, but it's Dean who stands. 

“Well, thank you for your time,” he's addressing Al more than he is Peacan though he does spare her a glance. Al nods, shrugging and smiling.

“No problem, glad I could help, if you two need anythang else I'll be here, so will Peacan and maybe Mack but maybe not...” Al seems to get lost in thought for a second before another smile plasters his face.

“Uh, yeah, thanks for everything,” Sam says and they exit the trailer.

 

In the impala they laugh for a good ten minutes, tears blurring their vision. “This has to be a joke man,” Dean laughs, “I mean seriously, Bobby, what a shit job, it was probably some birthday gag or something.”

“Yeah I don't know, Dean,” Sam chuckles, wiping his eyes. “Pretty ingenious if Bobby did plan it.”

Dean starts the engine and rolls down the window as they head back to the motel.

 

Dean calls Bobby when they get back and accuses him of setting them up. The call ends abruptly when Bobby hangs up. Dean looks at Sam.

“He's dead serious about this whole thing.”

Sam sighs and lays down on his bed. “Maybe just this once he's wrong and there's nothing here, I mean he's called in so many jobs, it's about time there's one dud.”

“Maybe, I don't know, that Al guy seemed pretty serious about it.”

“That Al guy is total trailer trash, Dean, I'm sorry but maybe he's been baking in the sun too long, it just doesn't seem right.” Sam replies.

Dean nods, though Sam's words are harsh. They've never judged people so fast, let alone being rude about it. He rolls onto his side, he found nothing wrong with Al, sure he was a bit odd but maybe there is some truth to it.

 

They both fall asleep and in the morning the front page of the local paper is littered with the news of a possible homicide; a body found at the golf course.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A major work in progress. 
> 
> I think this qualifies as slight AU.

News travels fast in places like these, the morning is a buzz of gossip and accusations. According to the local sheriff there was no evidence of an assault, which is strange so they retract their statement of a homicide and decide upon 'accidental death' instead. 

 

Sam and Dean arrive at the coroners at around twelve, just when the sun is directly above them. The place is in shambles, confusion and there is one secretary trying to manage at least ten out of state news calls. 

“Excuse me,” Dean says politely and she glances up from the papers she had been looking at. They hold up their FBI credentials, special agent Thomas McAvin and Robert Tradesmen this time around, and the lady points to a door over her shoulder. “Thanks.” Dean nods and they make their way to the door.

A man is sitting at a desk when they enter, his face troubled. 

“Hi there,” Sam says clearing his throat. “FBI, we need to see the body if possible.”

The man seems a bit flustered but stands, “Uh, yes, of course, please follow me.”

They follow and the man leads them to a pristine room, Dean almost snorts, it seems unlikely bodies would be put here for autopsies and examinations it's always so clean. They all stop before the metal table and the man lifts the cover away. 

Dean scowls and shares a look with Sam, the body looks normal, almost as if asleep, no marks no bruising. 

“How did he die?” Sam asks. 

“Unknown, there was no heart failure, no signs of an attack or self defence, it's as if he was walking and just slipped away.” 

The notion of someone just fading away like that seems crazy but in truth this is the type of stuff they deal with daily, strange cases of mysterious deaths, sightings of things that couldn't be real. 

“What's his name?” Dean asks and the man rattles out Travis Murphy to which Sam jots down on a piece of paper. “Do you know if he had any enemies, I mean I know you didn't know him personally but you never know.”

“I saw him around a few times, always seemed like a nice guy.”

Sam nods thoughtfully and Dean smiles. “Well, thanks for your time and if anything comes up give us a call.” He hands the man a card with a number on it and they leave without anything further. 

 

“Travis has no family here, he lived alone and had few friends, worked at a local mechanic shop.” Sam provides about half an hour later, the news is grim, no leads just people saying Travis was a quiet guy who liked to hang out by himself. 

“Maybe we should head out to the course,” Sam suggests and Dean nods. 

“Might as well.”

 

The golf course is quiet, nobody is playing today as the area on the fairway where Travis was found is taped off. It's hotter than it was yesterday, and there's almost no wind. The area is silent, baking in the sun. They make their way down to the scene. There's nothing here to suggest a struggle, not even a notch in the dirt.

They continue to looked around and about three yards away theres a golf ball. Dean is scooping it up when he hears a familiar voice. 

“Dean? Sam? You guys are back,” and when Dean looks up it's Al padding towards them, a spring in his step. “I don warned you did't I? Poor guy, but we put the sign up for a reason, it clearly states to stay away from the cactus.” 

Al points to the cactus and they both follow his gaze. It's a normal, boring, tall green cactus. 

“See the spirits in there are ancient, old as time itself or so people say.”

“What people?” Sam challenges, his voice a bit cross. Al doesn't seem to notice.

“Well, my people o'course,” he says a smile brightening his face. “See Dean you found Travis' golf ball, that hit it, and the spirits took his soul.”

Dean glances at Sam and he doesn't seem entertained by Al, in fact he looks down right annoyed. 

“Do you have proof Travis was playing golf last night?” Dean asks carefully.

Al looks troubled as he answers, “Well, no but I know it was him-”

“So you have no proof,” Sam interrupts, “maybe you're using this story to cover for something.”

The accusation shocks Dean and Al looks horrified.

“What? Do I didn't do anything, I'm only telling what happened, Travis snuck onto the course and played, he hit the cactus and shit,” he stops because Sam doesn't look convinced, Al looks to Dean for support. “C'mon you gotta believe me, I didn't do nothin.”

“I believe, you, it's okay, calm down, we aren't accusing you of anything,” Dean says, placing a hand on Al's shoulder, he's surprised to find the hick trembling. “Right Sam?” He asks, glaring at his brother who shrugs and mumbles a quiet 'whatever' under his breath. 

Dean releases Al's shoulder when he's sure Sam isn't going to continue but he doesn't and so Dean pulls away, gives Al some space. 

“Now you keep saying the cactus is full of spirits,” Dean says and Al nods.

“Yeah, it is, my brother Walt sort of had a connection to that side, if you get what I mean, he could kinda' speak to them,” Al replies, still weary of Sam but Sam isn't saying anything, merely listening. 

“How so?”

“I dunno, he just sort of did, he died a few months back, knew he was dying the whole time, wanted the course to be made before he went,” Al murmurs, his voice wavering slightly, “Walt was a good guy, but sometimes he sounded crazy, that was them spirits speaking through him.”

“So spiritual possession,” Dean says turning to Sam, “obviously not unheard of.”

Sam shrugs, “There might be some truth to this whole thing. But what I don't get is why they'd choose to inhabit a cactus in the middle of no where.” 

“Yeah, you got me there.” Dean replies with a sigh. 

Al shifts uncertainly before asking, “Well, maybe you two would like to come up to the trailer?”

Dean finds it a strange, out of the blue offer and he's about to ask 'for what?' but Sam beats him to the punch. “No, we really should be going,” he sounds snarky this time, and pissed off as if Al has done something to seriously offend him.

Dean watches Al's response, the hick takes a step back and his eyes flicker to his feet. For a second he reminds Dean of a puppy who's been kicked or scolded.

“Hey man, not today,” Dean provides after a second of silence, he shoots a heated glare at Sam and steps forward. “Maybe next time, alright?”

He reaches out and takes Al's hand, “Here, take care of this for me will you? We might need it later.” He presses the golf ball that allegedly Travis used into Al's palm, guiding the others fingers to curl around it. 

Al looks up, a small smile playing out on his lips, he nods and lifts an arm to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. 

“Yeah, sure, no problem Dean.” 

“Great, see you soon.” And Dean steps away, ignoring the annoyance painting Sam's face. 

 

Going down the highway back into town with the impala windows rolled down is their saving grace, the wind is still warm but it's better than standing out under the mid day sun. They don't talk as Dean drives back to the motel, and they still don't speak to each other even after Dean's had his evening shower and is channel surfing. It's after half an hour of flipping through the same twenty channels over and over again does Dean turn the TV off.

“What's up with you?” He asks out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” 

“You today, yesterday, somethings off, I mean you never act like a dick to people on jobs,” Dean looks at the ceiling. “You've never done it before, so why start now? I mean, you're different. Ever since-” he stops, _ever since you jumped into the Pit_. The words don't need to be said.

“There's nothing different about me Dean, I'm still your brother,” Sam sighs loudly. “So stuff happened down there, it's no big deal, you went to Hell too.”

“And I was severely messed up when I came back.”

“Yeah and we didn't sit down and talk about it, you kept it to yourself, I'm not saying I'm hiding anything but nothing is wrong, I'm fine Dean. You don't have to worry.” 

There's a silence and Dean merely shrugs and flips onto his side, his back to Sam.

“Alright,” he says after what feels like an hour. “But dial it down a little, there's no need to be rude to people.”

“Yeah sure.” Sam says and makes his way to his own bed. “But only if you dial it down too, god you just get so touchy feely with _him_.”

Dean snorts. “Him? What are you talking about?”

“Dean, I'm not stupid.” Sam replies, Dean can practically hear the smirk in his voice. He shuts his eyes, thankfully Sam doesn't push it and they leave it at that. 

 

The night is quiet but morning brings more intense heat and the locals talking excitedly. Multiple news teams have arrived to cover Travis' mysterious death.


	3. Chapter 3

Al is cornered, the centre of attention. He's not sure he likes it but he certainly doesn't hate it, smiling at the cameras, oh his momma would be proud, he's on TV!

“So this is your golf course?” A reporter asks. 

“Yup, whole darn thing is mine, well not mine mine but my family, my brother and my sister to be honest, see we live just over there,” Al says pointing to the tiny trailer, “moved back here after Dad died, then Walt started going and the whole thing just happened, ya see-”

“That's all very nice,” the reporter sighs, cutting Al off, “but we aren't here to talk about your family, this is a crime scene, we are here for the news, no offence.”

Al blinks and shifts his weight from one for to the other. He tugs his hat down a little further. “Well, yeah, m'sorry, I got carried away.”

“No it's no problem,” comes the lady's perky reply, in the span of two seconds shes gone from being rude to, well, excited. “Now, could you tell me what you think happened here?”

Al sucks in a breath of air, “Spirits took his soul.” He replies blankly and the laughter that erupts pierces him like knives.

 

They arrive later, 3pm, the news teams are long gone and the course is quiet. “So, I'll go EMF the cactus,” Sam says and Dean agrees with a nod. It'll be easier this way, Sam busy and not present while he speaks to Al, properly this time without interruptions or rude comments.

Dean watches Sam head in the direction of the haunted plant before making his way over to the trailer. There's nobody outside so he knocks on the door. 

Dean expects Peacan to answer but instead it's Al who opens it.

“Hi there, Dean,” the hick says yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, I didn't catch you sleeping did I?” 

Al shrugs, “You sure did, but it's no matter, you wanna come in?” 

Dean glances over to where he can just barely see Sam then looks back at Al, “Why not.” And Al smiles as he climbs into the trailer.

It's a lot smaller than it looks, very homey, a little messy but it's what you'd expect. Dean feels bad for a split second because sure he's lived in the Impala before but it's never been this tight, even with Sam.

“So you've lived here all your life?” 

“Mostly, never lived in a house, too fancy for our family.” Al looks around, gesturing. “This is just fine.”

Dean smiles as he watches Al go to the tiny fridge and accepts the beer that the other offers him when he turns around. He's suppose to be on hunting duty but Al answered all their questions already. 

“So where's Peacan?” He asks out of the blue. 

Al smirks, “She's out with somebody, I dunno, I think maybe she's going to attempt another rain dance, the course is looking a little sad.”

Dean snorts. “A rain dance?”

“Yup, our brother Walt told her how to do it last year when we were first building the course, well, the spirits told us, he just relayed it. Anyway, Peacan did a rain dance and it rained nice and heavy.” Al says, he looks out the small window above the sink and Dean follows his gaze.

“I don't see any clouds,” Dean inputs.

“Last time there weren't any until night, and she went and flooded the place.” 

Dean finds it hard to believe a rain dance could actually work but so far they have a possible haunted cactus that steals souls so he supposes it's not that unbelievable. He takes a swig of his beer, it's rusty tasting but not the worst beer he's ever had, he doubts Al can afford anything better. He remembers he still has beer in the back of the Impala and is about to offer when the door to the trailer opens and someone walks in.

“Mack!” Al exclaims, a big goofy smile on his face. “This here is Mack. Mack this is Dean, the one I told you about.”

Dean raises and eyebrow when Mack fixes him with a look that is close to being a glare. 

“Nice to meet you,” he holds out his hand and it's then Dean realizes Mack only has one arm. He shakes his hand. 

“Nice to meet you too -” Dean starts but suddenly Mack pulls his hand away, his intense stare fixing on Al.

“You gave him a beer,” Mack says, “Al you know you don't share the beer.” He pointedly looks at the bottle in Dean's hand.

“I know Mack but it's rude not to -”

“Al, I swear to God, if dad was still here he would've belted your ass so hard you would've bled.” It sounds like a warning and Dean realizes he's part of the problem, Al doesn't look scared of Mack but there's definitely something in his eyes at the mention of their father. He puts the beer down.

“Hey man, look I'm sorry, if I had known I wouldn't have taken it.” Dean says but Mack isn't paying attention to him. 

“Shut up 'bout dad,” Al scowls.

“Why should I? This family went to shit when he died.” Mack hisses back.

That seems to be the last straw for Al.

“Dean, c'mon,” he says and grabs Dean's wrist. Mack only huffs loudly and throws a few more insults at Al, one of which Dean knows hurts because when Mack yells “I wish you were dead instead of Walt” he hears Al's breath get caught in his throat, and he sees the hicks shoulders drop.

 

Sam is already at the impala when Dean and Al get there.

“What's going on?” Sam asks, not unkindly when Dean opens his door and pulls the seat back. Al climbs in quietly and settles down in the back seat, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window. Dean would be lying if he said he didn't see the water gathering in Al's eyes.

“He got kicked out,” Dean replies, it's not exactly the truth but Dean has fought with Sam like this before and he's left whatever hotel they are in, in favour of driving and clearing his head. He knows Al needs time and so does Mack.

“So, we're just bringing him back with us?”

“Yes, Sam, if it's a problem maybe you should get your down room,” Dean snaps, Sam doesn't bother speaking after that. Nobody speaks on the way to the motel, so Dean turns the radio on and tunes into a classic rock station.

 

At the motel they figure everything out easily enough. Dean brought the guest home so Dean has to share his bed. Sam takes a shower after they've decided the sleeping arrangements. It feels juvenile, sharing a bed but there isn't a couch and Dean sure as hell isn't letting Al sleep on the grimy floor.

Admittedly, it is a bit awkward at first, Dean stays awake and immobile until he's certain Sam and Al are both asleep. Only then does he sleep.

 

Some hours later he wakes to Sam's laughing and something extremely warm pressed tight to his side.


End file.
